


Mirage

by Florance_Tallis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24112459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florance_Tallis/pseuds/Florance_Tallis
Summary: 1963There is a sort insurmountable restlessness hanging in the air.Mirage (noun): an image, produced by very hot air, of something illusory, without substance or reality; something that is caused by the bending or reflection of rays of light by a layer of heated air of varying density; a reflection of light that can trick the mind into interpreting the sight as an apparently solid thing.It is close enough to be touched, tasted and marveled at until it is slipping through the fingers and flutters away like a delicate butterfly.
Relationships: Minerva McGonagall/Elphinstone Urquart
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Kitten

1963, London

Minerva remembered that day vividly; the memory of it was detailed and clear. 

She needed silence, time on her own, solitude, yet she found herself in Wimpole Street, London, knocking on the door of an apartment which sprawled across the majority of the second floor of an Edwardian townhouse. 

No answer came. She knocked again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Changing her mind, the witch almost turned around to leave when a woman in her early fifties and in patchy, dusty garments opened the door. 

‘Who can I announce?’ she asked, seemingly displeased at the visitor’s impatience. 

Of course... it was a Sunday. On Sundays the squib charwoman was always at his apartment. Yet it felt odd to Minerva, about to be announced like this.

‘I am a… I am a former coworker of– ’

‘May I have your name, Madam?’ she interrupted her curtly.

Minerva was not comfortable with uncovering her identity.

‘He will know who I am.’

‘I doubt it. My contractor is an important person, working with a great number of people. You may come back at another time-‘

‘It’s _Ross_. Um... M-Ms. Ross.’

The charlady nodded, then shut the door into her face. Minerva walked back to the balustrade of the staircase and leaned against it. The witch had to admit that she had no idea what she was doing in that glorious building. She only had excuses, but straightened her dress and waited nevertheless.

‘Mr. Urquart is occupied.’

She snatched her head up so quickly she sprained her neck. The charwoman returned with an unfriendly expression on her face. 

‘Perhaps try to contact his assistant in business hours for an appointm-‘

‘Is somebody at the door?’ Minerva heard Elphinstone’s distinctively rich, rusty voice from inside the apartment, and then his robust frame appeared in the far end of the hall. _‘Well, well, well...’_

‘Mr. Urquart, this lady...’ The squib woman’s cheek flushed with embarrassment as it became evident that she had not bothered notifying him about a potential guest. ‘Ms. Ross, who claims to be a former co-worker of yours wishes to speak to you, sir.’

‘ _Ms. Ross,_ hm?’ The wizard asked, eyeing Minerva with ill-concealed intent as he was approaching the door. His iris gleamed slyly for a second. ‘I must admit, I almost failed to recognize her.’

He secured a loosened cuff link in place and dismissed the charlady without looking at her.

‘Please, walk in,’ he turned to Minerva with a smile playing in the corner of his mouth. ‘How can I be at your service Ms...’ He lowered his voice. ‘ Ross? Ross, you said, right?’

‘Oh, come on,’ she shook her cloak off, noticing out of the corner of her eyes the squib lady leaving the apartment. 

‘Why the undercover operation?’ He was still speaking on a low voice, but only to mock her. There was nobody else around them anymore.

‘I am practically just as much a Ross as a McGonagall, right? I just...’ She shrugged. ‘I felt my name was not her business. Thank you...’

Elphinstone took her cloak and gestured towards the salon. ‘I see... Truth to be told, I am rather busy at the moment, but-‘

‘Oh then I don’t wish to keep you up,’ Minerva protested reaching for her garment in his hand.

‘You can watch along, I am just sorting some parchments. Your presence, darling, is always welcome.’

Yes, Minerva remembered that day vividly.

Every frightening bit of it which caused her heart racing and her head spinning.

It took only a mere second to start the avalanche, and to derail the promise of a casual afternoon ahead of them.

_‘You should have been more attentive!’_

Minerva sounded annoyed with, and paralyzingly worried for him at the same time. And although she knew very well that her tone would not ameliorate the situation, she could not hold herself back. 

Elphinstone on the other hand, seemed to be the epitome of leveled stoicism in spite of the hideous wounds, as he was observing in the mirror his scarred face covered with his own blood. ‘It has ceased bleeding.’

A couple minutes prior, while they had been having a lighthearted chat, he had opened an envelope from which tiny spearheads darted forward, fleetingly grazing the top of his cheekbone on one, and his jawline on the other side of his face.

‘Aren’t you feeling faintly? Don’t you want to sit down? Or to lay down?’ She was approaching him from behind, and in the mirror she could clearly discern the grotesque difference between the expressions on their faces. Minerva was pale as if she was the one who had lost blood, and looked like being on the verge of losing it. Elphinstone however, was calm, cool and collected. His posture, his tone, his motions – all remained dignified and measured.

‘No, thank you, darling. I am fine.’ He cautiously removed the blood from his face with a wand motion, and turned to face her. ‘Would you plea– ’ The wizard suddenly stopped in mid-sentence and frowned, looking genuinely concerned for a moment. ‘Are you sure that  _you_ do not want to lay down? You certainly look a little pale.’

Minerva gave him a sharp look of disapproval in return. She was about to snap harshly and defensively, but as soon as she realized who she was talking to, in what circumstances, and what kind of tone she was about to hit, she bit her tongue instead.

‘Don’t you look at me like that for the love of Merlin,’ Elphinstone sighed as he gave a side look to her. ‘These are nothing more than bruises.’

They were not, and they were needed to be taken care of rapidly. The spearheads were thankfully not poisoned, but their edges could have caused a serious harm, and despite his collected display, they both knew how lucky the outcome had turned out to be. Minerva reached out to touch his face, but her hand was shaking so evidently that she rather dropped it halfway.

‘It’s just…’ she swallowed, trying to recompose herself. ‘The whole situation was...’ Scary it had been, and for a moment, she had thought he would lose his eyesight and had his artery pierced. It had only been his quick reflex that saved him.

‘I am fine.’ He repeated with an encouraging smile, and gave her arm a gentle squeeze, smearing his blood from his palm onto her robe. ‘Oh, pardon.’

‘Never mind.’ She did not care about the stain. She was more concerned about the threat he had received via owl post.

The truth was, she had distracted him. Elphinstone had been paying disproportionate attention to her while he had been fidgeting with those envelopes. A dangerous conduct indeed, but he was not used to hate-mails either. The settlements of several of the law cases he had been working on had not turned out to be approvable for all parties involved, and as a criminal defense lawyer he could easily be targeted by the butt of resentment of both the plaintiff’s and the defendant’s circles.

‘Careful,’ she hissed as she was observing him trying to clean and close the leftover scars.

‘The thing is…’ Elphinstone mused. ‘I can’t reach them from the right angle.’ He lowered the potion-soaked cotton ball.

‘All right, let me do it.’ Minerva grew impatient and bold enough to take the cotton ball from his hand, and stepped closer to him. Then stopped abruptly, taken aback by her own pretentiousness. ‘If I may. May I…?’

He nodded and to her surprise, obeyed her without protest. The scars were not that hideous now that they were bloodless. She rose on the tip of her toes, and pressed the potion-soaked cotton into the wound on his cheekbone. Elphinstone remained silent, but she noticed that his hand clenched onto the mantelpiece hard. There was a frizzling sound, and when she carefully removed the cotton ball, steamy, fume-like vapor escaped from beneath it. But the surface of his skin appeared to be perfectly healed. Minerva absent-mindedly ran her thumb over that area of skin, and realized only then how close they were standing to each other. She could smell his cologne. She liked the scent. 

‘Did it hurt?’

‘As hell,’ Elphinstone rasped, and forced himself to exhale in an even pace, then quickly apologized for his choice of words.

‘We can stop if you can’t take it.’ Minerva stepped away from him, concerned. 

‘No, no, no.’ He tenderly pulled her back towards him by her elbow. ‘Lets get over it as swiftly as possible, shall we? I still have an open wound on my face, if you can recall. Now, I do not mean to complain, but it is rather… well, unsettling.’ He shifted uncomfortably, and squared his shoulders. ‘All right, I am ready for round two.’

Minerva dropped her hand and rolled her eyes. 

‘Elphinstone, I can’t reach you if you stand tall. Relax you muscles,’ she demanded while she was trying to adjust him gently by pressing down onto his robust shoulders. ‘You are unbelievably stiff.’

The other wound was trickier, given that his jawline was covered with short, but thick beard, and she could barely see the skin underneath it. 

‘Tilt your head, please…’ Minerva adjusted his head slightly to the side, and he willingly let her, ‘…a bit like… this.’

And that was the damned moment. 

The moment when she noticed that soft area of skin just above his collarbone, halfway between his chest and his neck. It was uncovered now that he had unbuttoned the top rows of his crisp, white shirt with the purpose of trying to avoid the fabric getting messy. 

What caught her eyes was basically just his cleavage; there should have been nothing particular about it. But for some reason, that particular spot seemed to be oh so tempting to be kissed, licked and... 

‘Is there a problem?’ his rusty bass asked from above.

Suddenly an unnervingly pleasant warmth rushed through her. Minerva shook her head to banish the thought, feeling her cheeks suddenly turn red. She tried to swallow, but her mouth and throat went dry in a moment. She could barely manage to squeeze out a squeaky  _ ‘no’. _

She wanted to kiss and suck on that delicious-looking area of his skin, but she was embarrassed by the very thought, and now she was also uneasy about not actually being uneasy while standing that close, almost chest to chest to his former boss. It seemed highly inappropriate, especially with such images in her mind.

Her hand was trembling, and she was barely cognizant of what she was doing. Elphinstone grunted gruffly when she pressed the liquid right into the wound, and he made a gesture as if he wanted to hold onto something. Instead, his fingers curled into a fist, and he relaxed them only after she removed the cotton pad. 

The wizard grimaced, but only for the purpose of checking if he could still feel some tightness around the healed area. Nothing. She did an excellent job.

‘I shall thank you for it, dear. Better than ever.’ He turned his head back towards her, and all at once she did not know how to react, still being less than an inch away from him.

‘Mm-hm.’ Minerva knew she had to move, but she kind of did not want to. 

Her eyes involuntarily, but instinctively dropped to his lips. She was only looking at them for one second, but even so, that might have been an entire second longer than she should have. She really, really liked his cologne, gosh darn it. The witch felt his gaze on her, and him fully aware of their close contact. She could barely breathe, and suddenly felt very confused about her wants and thoughts. Hearing her own heartbeat drumming in her ears incredibly loudly, she could not help, but wonder if Elphinstone could hear it too. It was impossible not to.

Minerva finally gathered the courage to lift her gaze, and her heart skipped a beat; she was not prepared to stare directly into his iris. She saw something in his eyes that she had been suspecting for years. Something which had been hidden behind his gentleman-like exterior, possibly out of politeness and respect. Now he was staring at her overtly, and did not avert his gaze.

‘I was so worried, I... you are all right now,’ she mumbled.

‘Thank you.’ 

His deep voice proved to be such a turn on. She had never allowed herself to think of it that way.

‘You’ve already… um... said that,’ she stuttered, feeling his large palm being placed onto the small of her back. Or maybe slightly lower. He was direct, but she could not mind his directness.

‘Have I?’ He appeared to be amused by her hazy embarrassment, a half smile playing in the corner of his mouth.

‘I think so…’ Minerva was not sure anymore.  _Has he? Has he not?_

She was unable to look away. Holding the sight of him holding her in his eyes, staring into some volatile certainty gave her a sort of fragile reassurance. They had been circling around fire for too long, and at that moment something in the back of her mind nudged her to walk into the flames and meet him halfway. 

Elphinstone leaned forward slightly, and her breathing basically stopped. 

She closed her eyes and felt the sensation of his lips barely brushing against hers, almost as if he was testing whether she perceived him as an intruder. But Minerva’s lips parted readily in response, and delightful warmth rushed through her body when he pressed gently against her lips. It naturally developed into a proper kiss, a beautiful and respectful one, which – to her own surprise – she reciprocated automatically and without hesitation.

It was not their first kiss; that had happened about five years ago, and she wished she had been able to erase that from her memory. Elphinstone had accompanied her back to the estate’s gate, and when after a hug she had turned unfortunately, mistaking it for an invitation, he had kissed her. But she had not kiss him back, gently pushed him away, and almost died in embarrassment asking him to respect their agreed boundaries as friends.

And then last year when the news about Dougal’s marriage had been relatively fresh… Minerva was still not proud of what she had done. What she had been about to do. It had meant to feel medicinal in a way, so… She had practically knocked on Elphinstone’s door, and after hours of conversing about anything and everything… she had needed, deserved some comfort after months of bitter agony. She had been tempted to take advantage of his obvious attraction towards her... But then the witch had managed to gather her right mind, and in the end it had only been a kiss; then she had left, and they never talked about it again. Although she had harbored some deep confusion ever since, given that she had failed to imagine her one-time sweetheart in Elphinstone’s place in that delicate moment.

This kiss however was utterly different from the previous ones, partly because this time she did not resist, and let herself go with the flow. Although she had little comparison, Elphinstone felt to be an exceptionally good kisser, the kind who made her go weak and left her wanting some more. His hand started caressing tenderly the side of her waist and arms, and although the motion was barely there, the sensation it gave her unlocked her defense system. Minerva found herself leaning against him, into his embrace, aligning her body with his, and he locked her in by wreathing his strong arms around her waist. It felt right. He felt right.

He let out a low sough, and Minerva felt a lovely whirlwind of warmth with a slight tingling sensation from her core and inner thighs all the way through her chest and the nape of her neck to the top of her head. She dissolved in his arms, feeling the strange mixture of desire and security taking over her as they were lost in each other for long minutes. 

At some point, a so far completely unknown, sweet aching appeared and grew with every second in her down there. When she involuntarily moaned into the kiss, she felt him smiling against her lips. But then, just when she almost allowed herself to enjoy what they were doing, Elphinstone disjointed his lips from hers, softly and gradually. 

Was that it? Minerva did not know whether she should be upset or grateful for his sensibility. She did not know anything at all, her head was light and she was hardly capable of forming coherent lines of thought. She could feel his ragged breath on her chin, the warmth of his body against hers, and his drumming heart right under her palm.

And then he planted a kiss to that soft spot where her shoulder met her neck. His advance came unforeseen, and she shuddered hard, suddenly feeling a blissful numbness in her limbs. He proceeded with his kisses on her neck, making her knees buckle. His movements were slow and purposeful, giving off an aura of strength and subtle power over her. It was so disarming, so all-devouring, yet considerate. 

He claimed her lips once again, and she did not protest. It was not like anything she had been kissed before, not even comparable to that timid press on the lips Dougal had given her with his chapped lips and lopsided smile when she had accepted his proposal a decade ago. That kiss had been awkward, yet had felt pink and sweet. This should have been awkward, yet it was red and divine.

To her astonishment, she did not feel like stopping; her hand slid timidly upwards to the nape of his neck. There was something in his embrace which made her body humming with life; her knees tremble; her thighs slick; her head empty. 

Elphinstone moved without breaking off the kiss, and gently dragged her along, in a way as if they were waltzing through his parlor, and they danced towards his bedroom. He started exploring her body before they could reach the bed as he pressed her against the doorjab of the room; his steady hands felt warm and welcome against her skin as the were roaming freely. Once he freed her hair from that tight  _chignon_ , he ran his fingers through the locks, slightly tugging at them, lifting her head so that he could look into her eyes.

‘God, you are beautiful.’ His voice was thick with lust.

The man lifted the hem of her robe, his hand sliding up on her thigh with one fluid motion, making Minerva arch against him and curl her leg around his hip. Her other leg followed suit in practically no time, and in the next moment he was carrying her to bed. 

She had never imagined that being dominated could feel so right, that the sight of a man towering over her would make her wanting him closer instead of desperately attempting to shove him away. He bit her neck playfully, and purring bursted out of her. The genuineness of the liberated emotion took her by surprise, while the sound prompted Elphinstone to murmur the word  _‘kitten’_ into her ear. His breath was burning hot on her skin, fueling the fire in her core.

He made her pliant, malleable, soft. Who was that woman she was becoming in his arms?

He proceeded with parting the fabric of her robe, and everything which was underneath – her blouse, her bra – right in the middle, all the way down to her navel. Kneeling back, he was taking in the sight with pure admiration and a flash of hunger in his eyes. He did not even avert his gaze from her exposed upper body when he reached out to place his wand on the bedside table. (Which rolled down onto the floor in the next moment, although they could not care less.)

‘Come here,’ he murmured breathlessly, and pulled her lower on the bed by her hips.

As he rose, towering above her, realization hit Minerva just how much larger he is, how much stronger, and how much more at ease with these sort of things. Elphinstone lowered down to relish in her lips and breasts, and the sensation of his tongue effortlessly and unhurriedly swirling around her nipple got her electrified on yet another level. He did not rush it, though, took his time, being just as voracious as delicate, and she was about to melt away. 

To be fair, Minerva had no time to worry about what she was supposed to do or what would have been expected of her; she was just laying there, letting him love her, and _Holy Magick,_ he loved her well. He was firm and loving, there was no trace of rough impatience in him.

Yet when something large grazed her down there, her breathing hitched and her muscles tensed. As he was looming grandly above her, she could feel him, hard and firm against her thigh, and she instinctively held him away, scared and panting. 

He steadied himself on his elbows, looking at her, scattered thoughts racing in his mind.

‘I’m sorry. Can we… can we just stop?’ she whispered apologetically with a mixture of shame and pleading in her voice. What was she doing? It all at once appeared to be a bad idea, a huge mistake, and it had already gone too far, risking to destroy their already existing precious bond of a different kind. He was not the one to do it with. 

‘We… we must stop, Elphinstone.’

The man pulled back up silently.

What was he thinking? The sobering thought came like a splash from a bucketful ice cold water. She was inexperienced, he had no doubt about that; it showed clearer than daylight by the way she gingerly and with a certain charming clumsiness had received his strokes and touches, and he had come at her overbearingly. It was not supposed to be the... Merlin, how inconsiderate he had been. They were not married, not even betrothed, and she was not that kind of woman. Although the opportunity had seemed more than enticing, he had to tame the forces pulling him in a hundred different directions from within. He must have known better. Elphinstone sat back up, still trying to catch his breath, knowing that it would be a hell of an undertaking to whine down.

‘I just need a moment.’ Minerva followed him, sitting up, still shaking slightly. The rustling sound of the silk sheets were unusually loud as she moved. 

‘It’s all right,’ he grumbled, trying to reassure her. 

It was not. They had crossed some pretty serious boundaries already, and they would not be able to pretend it had not happened.

In an attempt to avoid the sight of her exposed breasts, Elphinstone closed his eyes, and tenderly planted a kiss on her forehead. It was meant to put closure on their thoughtless actions, but instead, as the sensation it left tingled and cascaded in waves underneath Minerva’s skin, she got ignited again. 

Why did his touch feel so wrongfully right? 

She opened her eyes just to notice that area right above his collarbone which had triggered the entire chain reaction, was at eye-level. She found herself compelled to lean forward and bring her mouth to that area of his skin, and to start licking it like a cat. She could do that, properly taking her time. 

Merlin, what was wrong with her? She managed to discourage herself mentally from doing so, and covered the spot from sight with her palm. But her hand feebly slid downwards, across his broad chest. 

His skin was hot; his lips still on her forehead, right at her hairline. Then on her cheek, nose, chin, and eventually they were snogging again. It was a blur, and she might never know what triggered that almost bestial, low grunt in him which gave her goosebumps, but once she finally managed to rip his shirt open with her numb fingers, there was no way of turning back. 

Minerva had needed a moment to come clear on it, but that moment had passed. 

She surrendered to him willingly and completely.

They were on the bed again before they knew. With her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer, huddling up against him. His body lowered onto hers, and she felt him against her down there again, this time not fleetingly. She could barely inhale and exhale, her legs opened instinctively to give way to him, and she muffled against his shoulder when instead of thrusting in, he started grinding on her most sensitive parts. And he kept repeating the motion slowly, but steadily. At the same time, Minerva could definitely sensed it being a forced pace, his shoulders trembled from the restraint he was exerting over himself. As he kept on going, it was like a cruel, beautiful way of torturing, and she was almost, almost at the gate of something inexplicable and intense, when he stopped abruptly. 

‘What is wrong?’ Heaving heavily, Minerva tried to form a sentence of coherent words. She was about to search his eyes with hers, but since he was being buried in the crook of her neck, there was no chance for them to make eye contact. 

He did not want to take her chastity away, Minerva realized suddenly. Just a couple more moves and she (or he) would get satisfaction without any harm done. He was just still hesitating. But now she wanted it properly.

‘What is wrong?’ she repeated out of breath, sounding a tad more desperate than it would have been appropriate. Her entire body was trembling with anticipation. 

The last thing Elphinstone wanted was her to regret it, but as long as she did not protest, he could not bring himself to stop. Without a single word spoken, he shifted her legs slightly, and took her breath away completely. His move made her hiss and gasp from the uncomfortable, yet maddeningly stimulating sensation he caused her. 

He was sizable, both length and girth. Obviously, his height and build should have suggested it, yet it startled her all at once. Her arms tightened around his torso, and Elphinstone paused for a long moment, letting her adjust and adapt, while managing to hold back a curse. She felt like heaven, but he was not fooling himself about her possibly very different experience of what was happening. 

‘Are you,’ he muttered slurring his words, his head swimming in pleasure, ‘in… pain?’

She shook her head with her eyes shut tight.

Elphinstone kissed into her neck while fondling her thigh in an attempt to soothe her.

‘Gently, please…,’ she begged with an unexpected break in her voice, realizing that she had never ever felt in her life more vulnerable, exposed, and at a mercy of another human being. But then, she knew nobody else who she would have trusted more in that situation than him.  _‘…gently.’_

It appeared that he knew very well what he was doing. In a slow and persistent pace he was managing to hit some sweet spot inside with just the right pressure, then pulling back out, he let her recover before he returned. And man, did he return…! Her eyelids fluttered shut, the world around her faded away, and the only thing she could hear was the bed creaking, and his soft, guttural soft grunts at every thrust. He was rocking her like a boat tied to the pier that is repeatedly guided by the rhythmic waves of the sea to bump against the bollards.

‘Oh, God,’ she whispered on a weak voice, and Elphinstone smirked at the thought that what he was doing to her felt so good that the reverend’s daughter took the Lord’s name in vain. 

She needed to hold onto something, the sensation which was burning and soothing, exciting beyond measure, yet strangely relaxing, was becoming too much. When clenching onto the silk sheets was not enough, she could not help, but digging her nails into his back and his broad shoulders, attempting to get a proper grasp on him.

Since the Cat scratched his skin until his blood streamed forth, at some point Elphinstone pinned her arms down to her sides. The move was as powerful as gentle. 

‘ _Yes...!’_

Although since she had left the Ministry, Minerva had been fighting her little, silent private war to get him finally see her as his equal, not his inferior anymore, she liked him playing the boss once again, ah, she really did.

As she started grinding up against him, rolling her hips in circles, his pace became less congruent; he started moving faster, then slowed things down in a way which only made sense to him. She loved watching him slip, witnessing that great mask of poise and conceit crack for a split second as she was dragging him with her into some divine abyss. But he refused to jump just yet.

‘Patience,’ he whispered archly while easing into another position where he was the one who set the rhythm entirely. And he apparently, for whatever reason, fancied it slow and sensual, and Minerva was taken by surprised at how she was about to come undone at the seems. Elphinstone had always been patient, agonizingly, patient, and yet again, once he regained control decisively, he found particular pleasure in teasing her mercilessly.

_Oh, God. Oh, God._ She wanted to, she needed to toss and turn as a her body was about to be taken over by a wave of immense pleasure. It was almost there, and it felt unbearable. Elphinstone did not pick up the pace to grant her the awaited relief, but let go of her wrists as Minerva started writhing and squirming beneath him. The tension he had built up in her was about to consume her entirely. And indeed, within a moment, something inexplicably beautiful and frighteningly overpowering exploded and imploded inside her, jolting her entire body. She hugged him tight with her arms, curled her trembling legs around his wide torso, and was immensely grateful that he ceased moving in that moment and let her process the delicious shock.

When Elphinstone got back at it again, within a short amount of time his movements became erratic, his fingers tightened on her waist, and with a hoarse groan and a jerk he found his relief too. He huffed loudly, marveling at how rewarding it was to guide her to satisfaction. 

He felt her arms around his neck and on his back, holding him close with hands delicate and warm. Minutes passed, neither of them spoke, basking in the glory of the blissful emptiness of the mind. 

She moved first, releasing him from the embrace, and he kissed her neck gently before pushing himself off of her, and rolling over to his back.


	2. Claws

Thoughts – pleasant and less than pleasant – were creeping back slowly once they regained their sense of the world.

They parted only moments ago, but Elphinstone already wanted to draw her back into his arms, listen to her breathing as it was evening out, play with her hair, kiss her. He had been waiting for what just happened for about a decade. Merlin knew he had imagined making love to her countless times before, but that past half an hour or so had been way beyond his expectations.

Minerva stirred next to him, on her face an unfathomable expression. She did not know yet whether she regretted their actions. Her head was spinning. She was wondering if he would want to do it again sometime in the near future; whether he would expect her to let him do it again now that she swayed once; whether she would mind it; or whether _she_ would like to do it again. She tried to ignore the not-at-all-weak voice screaming _ ‘YES’ _ in the back of her mind, because no, of course she would not, she was not supposed to. They were not supposed to touch one another like that, to begin with. And the first time should not have felt that good based on what she had read and heard.

Minerva sighed and shifted discreetly, trying to observe the sheets under her. There was no blood. She was one of the lucky few who had gotten over it with some feeling of tightness and no painful tearing. She shuddered as she recalled the sensation of him entering her.  _Good Lord…!_

‘Are you quite all right, darling?’ He extended a hand to stroke her arm, but she felt a strong pull to flee, fearing that she would get under him in no time again, if he came closer. But also, his tone left an unpleasant sting in her.  _There’s no need to be condescending, darling._

‘I am fine. It’s merely… exhaustion,’ she answered curtly. And it was not quite a lie, her eyelids felt unusually heavy.

‘You can stay for the night.’

Minerva would not have been able to imagine a more dangerous idea, to be fair. She sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose.  ‘Can I please use the shower?’ She had never imagined love making being that messy, but her thighs now were sticking together from all the bodily fluids exchanged. The weight of reality showed up unexpectedly and unapologetically.

‘Of course.’ Elphinstone stroked her arm nevertheless.  She stared on, hypnotized by the way the back of his hand was moving up and down on her skin. Her thoughts flew apart as he kept on going, and when his lips joined in, she shivered from the combination of his soft, warm lips and the harshness of his beard tracing their way along. It was too much, too intoxicating, she needed to break the spell.

‘I am on a day of... of my cycle,’ she stuttered, ‘when my fertility must almost be at its lowest, practically no chance for conception. However…’

She was hoping to sound absurdly matter-of-factly, for contraception occurred to be the most inadequate, yet still timely topic in such a delicate situation in order to cool the air around them. She was not mistaken, and could instantly feel his lips disjoining from her skin.

‘…taking the potion would make me feel considerably safer. To make sure…, and so… if you’d release me to… it is in my purse.’ 

He met her eyes with a rather uncomfortable feeling rising within him, now that his utter inconsideration had been exposed. 

‘Taken within twelve hours, it has the same effect as taken before the… act,’ she pressed forward, stating facts.

‘Yes, yes. Sure enough. Do as you must,’ Elphinstone muttered under his mustache.

_The act._ He must have lost his right mind. Having unprotected sexual intercourse with her, and exposing her to unwanted pregnancy the first time she engaged in such an intimate activity... He was not only considerably uneasy about the possibility of fatherhood, but also about the kind of feelings she would harbor towards the situation in case she indeed got impregnated. Elphinstone covered his eyes with his palm, wondering if he should have addressed the issue, if he should have offered her the potion beforehand or immediately afterwards.

And then, and then an unscrupulously inappropriate thought slithered its way into his mind: _would she marry him if she conceived._

Minerva stumbled back into the parlor and took a look around, wondering where she had left her purse. The ghost of his touches lingering everywhere on her skin prevented her from thinking straight. It was pleasant. Very pleasant. Very, very, very pleasant. But that was about it. After all, it meant nothing in the sense of... to her, at least. 

_‘ Accio purse.’_

It was merely carnal, she kept on persuading herself with rather moderate results. He was an attractive man despite inching close to fifty, and they were adults with an undeniable sexual tension between them, she reasoned. But they were intelligent, sensible adults, fully capable of handling such a slip. 

She could smell his cologne all over herself. Woody, musky, leathery, masculine. Some high end and demurely potent fragrance. It was lovely. Very, very lovely, Merlin damn it. As she was rummaging through the purse, the questions kept popping in her head. She could not help but wonder about how long had it been since his last time with a woman; about what he was thinking of her; if she had lived up to his expectations; if she had been a disappointment. A fter all, she had only been laying under him, letting him do to and with her whatever he had pleased. 

She ran her trembling hand through her tousled hair. Was it regrettable?  He had given her many opportunities to stop; to make him stop, and yet she let him go on. He had rushed nothing; he had demanded nothing. It had been consensual. As a witch of thorough knowledge of the implications and consequences of all sorts, she had made a decision, which now she needed to own for her own sake. She had let herself experience a highly intimate activity with a man who had been straightforward with his words and actions in adoring and cherishing her, and who had been respectful in how he had taken the opportunity granted to him. Was there anything regrettable at all?

Yet Minerva could not chase some disturbing images away. 

_Mr. Urquart giving instructions to her from across his large, elaborate wooden desk; his formidable presence is heavy in the room, yet there is a strange sense of tranquility and certainty around._

_Mr. Urquart delivering a plea in a courtroom; his face stern, in his eyes no trace of preparing for failure, his posture dignified and imposing._

_Mr. Urquart congratulating her on the first successful case she has been involved in; his words are parsimonious and reserved, and she is feeling prideful._

_Mr. Urquart, the same Mr. Urquart she used to praise and idolize as her mentor, licking and sucking her nipples, the sensation sending her to sweet oblivion._

_Mr. Urquart, the same Mr. Urquart, breathing the word ‘kitten’ in her ear with a voice broken and drunk with lust and affection._

_Mr. Urquart, pinning her down and moving inside her with long, deliberately slow strokes, and she summons all her strength not to cry desperately for more._

She paused.  _Gosh._

A world just collapsed in her by producing memories of what she had believed to be unimaginable only an hour ago. It was difficult to imagine how she would be able to face him onwards. Although they had been circling round each other, Minerva herself would have never thought she could get _that_ intimate without a strong romantic bond, or really, with anybody else than... than Dougal... And as that particular thought ran through her mind, sharp pain hit her in the chest right behind her sternum. Her body which had been humming with life and authentic pleasure just minutes ago, now felt numb and lifeless.  _With anybody else than..._

The witch fished out the small vial from her purse and unscrewed it with ever trembling hands, wondering once again why she had been carrying it with her anyway. Due to her responsible mindset, sure, she sniffed with self-disdain. Who was she trying to fool? It was _Chekhov’s gun_ in their, her and Elphinstone’s scenery.  She emptied the vial without further hesitation, and waited. Sour taste was lingering on her tongue, and she felt almost immediately a bit of a tingling sensation right behind her lower abdomen. It was done, the pH-level was not conducive anymore for his seed in her for another 24 hours. 

_The_ _deed was undone, wasn’t it?_

‘You look lovely, I hope you are aware of that.’ 

She turned and saw him, leisurely leaning against the bedroom’s doorjab with one shoulder, wearing a rather expensive-looking nightgown. She used to think of him as the concept of the Roman Empire when she had been working for him: he either had already acquired something, or considered it to be his in advance, by having a sense of entitlement and an unwavering belief in himself that he would indeed acquire it someday. She could sense this attitude in the way he looked at her in that moment. He must have felt incredibly victorious.

‘Elphinstone.’ She dropped her gaze and felt rather still and uneasy in her body. The vial slipped out of her fingers, falling onto his Persian.

‘I know.’ He approached her, head tilted a bit to the side.

‘You do?’ She asked hopefully. So he sensed her uncertainty and conflicted emotions.

‘I do.’ He stood in front of her, tenderly placing his palms on both sides of her upper arms.

She let out a relieved sigh, and allowed herself a smile. He pulled her close, and in the embrace of his strong body she felt comforted and calm. 

‘I was worried it might cause some friction, but… I appreciate that we can agree that it shall not happen again.’ She inhaled his scent deeply before she pulled out of the hug. 

Although the confused expression on his face suddenly gave her the faint impression that they might have misunderstood each other, he did not protest.

‘As you wish,’ Elphinstone said cautiously with a slight frown, wondering what had happened since she left the bedroom, and why he was having the conviction despite her words that what had happened in his bedroom would happen again countless times in the future. Not against, but according to her wish.

He slid his palms down on her arms, and lifted both of her hands to kiss her knuckles. 

‘You are such a mirage, Minerva. For a split moment I almost believed I reached you, but clearly...’

He did not finish his line of thought, but she knew anyway what he intended to imply. His words slightly upset her, and she felt again the urge to escape.

‘I thought you enjoyed it too.’ He tilted her chin upwards, so that she had no choice but to look at him. By seeing what he perceived to be pain, remorse surged in him. In that moment he immensely regretted that he had pinned her down and that he had been so overpowering; he might have come across as an atrocious beast. ‘Did I... cause you pain?’

She did not reply, being more conflicted than ever. A part of her longed for Elphinstone’s embrace and kisses for days on end. The same part of her fancied the precious way he looked at her, and she wanted it all for her own: his undivided attention, his affection and hunger being targeted at her and only her. But another part of her was terrified, paralyzed and in desperate need to detach from him before reaching a point of no return.

‘Minerva?’

‘I am sorry to say you might have. I... I don’t know.’

She looked strained as she stepped back. Her voice was… different. Of course, she did not mean what she said in the sense the wizard probably understood it. It was not about a physical sort of pain, but much more about the self-inflicted guilt for the betrayal of her connection to Dougal McGregor.  She briefly massaged her chest at her sternum to ease the aching. It dissolved and disappeared when he held her in his arms a moment ago. Why did it have to return? 

‘Now. If your offer about... the shower... If it is still, you know..., I would be highly grateful if…’

‘Certainly,’ Elphinstone nodded. ‘Certainly.’

‘Thank you. I… can manage from here on my own.’ 

‘Sure.’

She turned to leave the room.

‘Minerva?’

Elphinstone stepped closer, but she shrank, mirroring his movements conversely.

‘It was never my intention to hurt you or cause you pain, and so–‘

‘I know.’

‘I’d like to apologize if… I apologize. I should have asked.’

‘You did.’

‘Not about the pain.’ He looked serious. ‘About... about the consent. I could feel that it was your fir–‘

‘This conversation,’ Minerva hissed, anger and shame sizzling up in her unexpectedly, ‘has already dragged for too long.’ 

It all felt so humiliating now.

‘I just–‘

‘You just what?  You just what?!’ she snapped.

Elphinstone paused before he spoke, his expression sincere and serious.

‘Your value has not depreciated in my eyes.’

She stared at him flabbergasted. He had the audacity to say it in her face with utter conviction...! 

‘How kind of you,’ the witch said, her voice ice cold. ‘Don’t worry, I have never ever assumed anyway that you might judge me for giving you the grace, without being my husband and master, to tear a thin membrane in my vaginal opening, the sole evolutionary purpose of which is infection prevention until the adolescent female grows some– ’

‘It is not about your…’ He had always felt uneasy talking about such things. ‘It is not about your virginity. I…’ 

‘Yes, you?’ 

He hit home hard with the patriarchal conception of women without realizing it, and Minerva got quickly on the verge of losing it.

‘It is about your dignity,’ the wizard said at last.

She stood there as he would have slapped her.

‘I’d better be going now.’

‘Darling, I don’t want you to leave with an unpleasant memory of this afternoon.’

‘I don’t care what you want, Elphinstone Urquart.’ She was stunned and jaded. ‘And I don’t care what you think.’

Minerva marched past him, heading towards the fireplace to floo away as soon as she could, but he effortlessly hauled her in with one arm, using her own momentum to do so. It was almost too easy of a catch, all he did was to extend his arm.

‘I brought these things up out of respect, Minerva,’ he stated on a low voice. ‘I did not intend to be condescending.’

There was something loving and caring in his embrace, tempting her to ease into it, but her wounded pride kept her stiff and uptight. 

‘Although I highly doubt that for you it was merely about a membrane,’ Elphinstone said, ‘your trust has sincerely meant a great deal to me, and I would like to thank you for it.’ 

Then he apologized once again if he had been harsh, selfish or insensitive, thus making her first time a bad memory. She remained rigid and silent, and was dreading that he might come up with yet another marriage proposal in order to amend his _“wrongdoing”._ But he was apparently done with his monologue.

‘I do not want to talk about it,’ Minerva said at last.

He dropped his arm, and she drew away from him. 

‘I am almost ashamed of admitting how much I enjoyed it if that’s what you want to hear, and I think you were very much considerate, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m sorry,’ she added quietly.

‘I see.’ Elphinstone cleared his throat, and for the first time in a long while he did not know what do with himself.

He was listening to the distant sound of the running water while she was showering, and he felt confused. He was imagining the water drops rolling down on her skin, every bit of which he had been stroking and kissing a little while ago, but he knew he was trespassing. And so he reluctantly let the thoughts fade away.

The water stopped running. 

He took a look around. 

It was dark in the room, the sun had already set. It was time to lit some candles.

**Author's Note:**

> The main title will make sense in light of the second chapter.  
> Initially I wanted to post them in one piece, because they belong tightly together for the right conclusion, but then I changed my mind, and here we are.
> 
> Erotic scenes are always a delicate topic, and out of respect for the characters - regardless of them being fictional - I tried to avoid explicit wording.


End file.
